Insomnia
by ntrophi
Summary: TSW. Hein has severe insomnia, and is trying to think of why. Rated high for suicidal tendencies and a couple of baaad words. Written while I was suffering an insomnia attack of my own, so be nice to me. Cookies for reviews.


Author note: Help me! I might just be turning gradually away from my comedy and turning into a *gasp* serious writer!! Say it ain't so!  
  
This is part of my ever-going battle against insomnia (which I am always losing, but you can't blame me for trying, ne?) Originally written at 3am, and edited at 5am on another day, this is proof that I get severely angsty when I can't sleep! If three of my muses hadn't been asleep at the time, this probably would have just been about me, but as Hein was complaining at me, he ended up being the subject. It actually turned out to be much more angst-filled and suicidal than I expected. Hhm. Go figure.  
  
Well, I don't own Hein, or the Phantoms. I just write about 'em. Don't sue me.  
  
Enjoy. Cookies to those who review, sleepless nights to those who don't.  
  
  
  
It's so odd, watching the world go by in the dead of night. It's so quiet and peaceful right now, when the world sleeps. You wouldn't think that the entire earth was dying if you looked at it under this sky; lit by the moon alone. I don't suppose I'll ever call it beautiful – too much has happened to let me call anything beautiful again. It's much more complex than that. It's almost tragic, in fact. Ironic. It's so peaceful right now, like the calm before the storm.  
  
Why am I sat here, rambling to myself about the state of the world? Why am I still sat here, at this window, at 4am? Why am I just staring at the world, trying to see past the dull orange glow of the barrier so I can truly see the horror. It's like a horrible dream sometimes, so why do I do it? Well, I only need one word to explain all this.  
  
Insomnia.  
  
I like putting it that way. There's something utterly pathetic about saying "I can't sleep". Too whiny for my liking. But the word "insomnia" is different. It's something dangerous, evil. It's something that strikes fear into the heart of anyone who's ever experienced it. Especially in these dark days. It's bad enough watching the earth decay during the day. At night, it's just so much worse.  
  
Now, don't go thinking that I've been like this all my life. I used to sleep like a baby, even just a few years ago. It would take a nearby explosion to wake me up before I was ready, and I never had any trouble drifting off into that land of dreams. I would close my eyes, and moments later my dreams would just whisk me away. I guess it's amazing just how much loss can change a person. Not just how they feel and think, but how they behave, both consciously and subconsciously.  
  
I've had a lot of time to think about why I can't drift off to that world of dreams anymore. Hell, what else do you think I do all this time? There are only so many books you can read, or reports you can sign before you start thinking. When did it first happen? Oh yeah, I remember now. I had my first insomnia "attack" about… seven years ago. It was just before…  
  
No, I can't think about that, not even now. Even so many years on, it still hurts me. It hurts me so much, so deep inside that sometimes I want to die just so I can't feel that pain anymore. Regret, guilt, loneliness… Call it what you will. I don't have a name for it. Maybe it's all these feelings just bundled into one. Whatever it is, that's the cause. It's too painful when I'm alone; it's too painful to ignore.  
  
I guess I miss them most at night, and that's why it hurts me so much; even now, so many years on. This is the only time when I'm alone; when I truly get to think. When darkness falls and everyone goes to their homes, and their families, I stand here, just watching the world crumble before me. I think, and all my thoughts lead to just one thing; one emotion. Hate. This is when I hate the most. A few hours is all I need to despise everything; myself, the army, the Phantoms… The whole goddamned world could end right then and there, and I wouldn't care.  
  
When did I stop caring? Strange… I never asked myself that before. Well, it's not like I have anything left to truly care about. All I have is my purpose – my one goal. When I'm done, then I don't care what happens to me. Maybe I can see them again… No… I don't think they'd want to see me like this. They wouldn't want to see what I've turned into. I'm not the loving, caring husband and father they knew. I'm a monster…  
  
I think – no, I know – that I want to blame myself. No matter how many times people say that I couldn't have done anything, I know they're wrong. I could have done something. I could have been there with them, but I wasn't. I wasn't there to protect them; to do the one thing that I had promised to do.  
  
I failed them… I failed them both. The only two people I cared about.  
  
Maybe if I had been there… Maybe I could have saved them, got them out in time. The least I could have done was die with them, instead of leaving them like that. Why was I so stupid? Why didn't I go back when I had the chance? I could have been there when it happened… I'm just so…  
  
See? There I go again. All it takes is one little thought, and I find myself in some kind of vicious circle. I can't escape it – my thoughts won't let me. Maybe that's why I can't sleep. It's hard to relax when your own thoughts are tearing you up from inside. I don't sleep for very long, because I'm always blaming myself…  
  
Some nights, I don't even sleep at all. No-one notices, but then why would they? Everyone just sees me as the cold-hearted General, willing to do anything for a victory over the Phantoms. They just look for reasons to blame me when everything goes wrong – when the losses get too high.  
  
Well, what the fuck do they know about loss?! That's what annoys me so much. They all sit there, so ready to judge and yet so unwilling to understand what I've been through. Do they think it's easy, living like this – like a mere shadow of that proud man I once was? Do they know what it feels like to have everything you've ever loved torn away from you in a split second by some enemy you can't even see? They need to learn what it feels like. They need to know what I've been through. Then they can judge me all they damn well want. But until then – until they lose every single relative of theirs to the Phantoms – then every single one of them can go to Hell.  
  
I bet they all sleep so fucking peacefully at night, knowing that their loved ones are safe around them. They check on their wives and husbands and kids, and close their eyes easily, knowing full-well that everyone will still be there when they wake up. They aren't totally alone, are they? They have more than a bottle and a gun to keep them company. They don't see what I do; the dying world all around me. And that's just when I'm awake…  
  
I may be sat here, complaining about not being able to sleep, but I have to admit that some days, I don't want to sleep. I don't want it to find me. I've had enough of finally drifting off, only to wake up again five minutes later. Even when I can sleep for any decent amount of time, it's no easy ride. Dreams, nightmares, call them whatever you want. I don't want to even try describing them. It's always the same – every single night. I'm alive, but everyone else… Everyone else around me is…  
  
Sometimes I can't even tell what's real and what's not. That's why my dreams terrify me so much – I can't tell if they're true, or whether my own mind is playing another sick joke on me. It always seems so real though… I can always smell the spent ammo in the air, and taste the scent of death on the wind. And all I hear are the screams… They never stop. It's just screaming and screaming until I can't take it anymore. I don't know if I'm screaming, or whether I'm hearing things. I don't think I want to know. What if I'm going crazy? What if all this lack of sleep is turning me into some kind of zombie – ready to destroy everything I once held dear?  
  
I don't want to think about it anymore. I don't want to think about anything anymore. I just want to close my eyes and know that I'm never going to open them again. I want to feel that gun barrel against my head, and then… Nothing. Just nothing. Oblivion; that's what I want. A place where there's no pain, no dreams, and no Phantoms. I only know one way to reach that paradise, and I'm too much of a fucking coward to do it… I always have been. I'll sit here, looking out of this window, holding this very gun to this very temple. Then… Nothing. I can't do it, even though I know it'd be best for everyone – myself included. I long for death most of my waking hours, so why am I so afraid to welcome it? Because I'm a coward; a stupid, lonely coward with no-one to talk to but himself and the bottle in front of him. Heh… Fat lot of good they are to me.  
  
So, I have no solution. I'll just keep on coming to this window, watching this lifeless world pass me by. Is it all just a dream; a horrific nightmare that I can't escape from? Or is this reality; some sick, twisted reality planned for us all? I don't know. I can't tell the difference anymore.  
  
All I want to do is sleep… 


End file.
